The Emancipation Of Samantha Winchester
by xephwrites
Summary: Follows First Date! Samantha and Dean are getting ready for a night on the town when the last person they wanted to see interrupts them. WARNINGS: crossdressing, feminized!Sam, underage, wincest, mean!John


**A/N: **Just a short installment for the verse. YAY! IT'S DONE! I apologize to my readers for the length of time in between parts of this verse. My problem is that I take on too many things at once! Plus I always need to be sure that each part of the verse is exactly what I want. So I take my time with them. This follows **First Date.**

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Sam Winchester entered the small apartment with enthusiasm. School was done for the week, Dad was away for at least another two, and Dean had the weekend off work. This was going to be their weekend, and Sam wanted to make tonight special. He picked up the phone in the small kitchen and dialed the garage Dean worked at.

"Eastman's," Dean said on the other end. Sam smiled at the sound of his voice.

"Hi," Sam said softly. "What time are you done today?"

"Five, Sammy," Dean said with a smile in his voice. "Like every Friday. Should be home by five thirty. Why?"

"Figured we could go out tonight. You know, on a nice date," Sam blushed a bit. He still couldn't believe what he and his brother shared, even if there weren't exactly words to pinhole what it was.

"Of course, Sammy," Dean said, lowering his voice. "Wear something nice. Gotta go."

"Love you," Sam whispered into the phone. "You too," Dean said back before hanging up.

Sam almost ran to their bedroom to get ready. He took out the extra duffel that held his other clothes and set it on his bed. Sam unzipped it slowly, not wanting to snag any of the delicate fabrics in the metal teeth. He gently set aside different pieces, looking for the ones right at the bottom. He pulled out a white buttonless blouse and a long silk flower print skirt. He took them to the bathroom with him.

From his toiletries bag, he pulled out a razor and lilac scented shaving gel. Sam stripped down completely and began to run warm water into the sink. He lathered up the shaving gel in his hands and spread it on his long legs. He preferred how Dean did this, gently smoothing the gel over his legs then carefully running the razor up his legs. Sam sighed at the memory before propping one leg on the sink and began to shave.

After his legs and underarms were smooth and Sam had showered, he got dressed. He loved how the high darts on the shirt sat on his chest and the short sleeves flared. The shirt hung just below his waist. The silk skirt was black with large roses printed on it. It hung straight and was almost tricky to walk in, given Sam's strides were quite wide. He brushed his hair and carefully placed the small silvertone butterfly barrettes on each side of his face. There was one tiny wisp of hair that remained on his forehead. He left it because he knew that Dean liked it.

He reached for his lip gloss and hesitated. This was going to be a special night, and he should make himself look extra pretty for Dean. He walked to the bedroom and took the small black leather purse out of his duffel before closing it and placing it under the bed. He took his wallet from his backpack and placed it in the purse. He dug out a pair of black silk ballet-style shoes and slipped them on. He made a mental note of how much money he had with him before heading out of the apartment.

He arrived at the large pharmacy around four thirty. More than enough time to accomplish what he wanted and still make it back in time for Dean to be done work. He had left a note just in case Dean made it home before Sam. His stomach tightened a little as the automatic doors whooshed open and he stepped in. The cosmetics counter was right as soon as you walked in. Sam wandered around it, looking at the various make up, unsure of what would look good, or even how to put it on.

"Can I help you with something?" A friendly female voice said from behind Sam. Sam faced the middle aged woman and smiled shyly.

"Yes, you can," He said in his softest, most feminine voice. "I honestly have no idea what to do with any of this stuff."

The cosmetics assistant laughed lightly.

"Well, none of us were born knowing what to do," she looked at Sam's face intently. "You have a beautiful complexion, and vibrant eyes."

Sam smiled as he's never been complimented by anyone other than Dean before.

"My boyfriend doesn't like too much make up on girls, though," He said. The lady nodded.

"Most guys don't, actually," She said. She motioned to the stool beside the counter. "Have a seat, and let's see what we can do."

Sam sat on the stool, crossing his legs at his ankle. The cosmetics assistant walked around the displays, selecting a few items.

"So, do we have an important date tonight?" She asked, setting the items on the counter beside Sam. Sam grinned and nodded.

"We're going out for dinner, and I'm not sure what we'll do after," He said. "We don't get to go out very often. Mostly we stay at home and watch movies, or go out for a drive."

"Ooh, so he has a car?" She said teasingly, unwrapping a tube of mascara. Sam smiled.

"A 1967 Impala. It's a great car." Sam flushed as she raised an eyebrow playfully.

She showed Sam how to apply mascara, a bit of eye shadow, and how to use lip gloss with a brush. They chatted through the whole makeover session. Sam couldn't help but gasp as he saw his reflection when she handed him the mirror.

"Wow," he breathed. He looked at her. "Thank you so much!" She smiled back at him.

"If you ever need advice again, just let me know," She rang in the bits of make up as Sam reached for his wallet. The make up fit in his purse nicely. "Have a great date!" She said brightly as he thanked her again.

Sam was bouncing on his way back to their apartment. He saw the Impala in the parking lot and his heart leapt. Dean came home early, and Sam tried his best to run up the stairs without ruining his skirt. He flung the apartment door open. "Dean!" He called out.

Dean poked his head out of their bedroom door, hair still a little damp. He was buttoning up his only dress shirt. He looked at Sam and smiled brightly.

"You look beautiful, Samantha," Dean said, walking towards Sam. Sam whispered a thank you as Dean swept her up in his arms. Dean placed a small kiss on her lips. "You're wearing make up," He said.

"The lady at the cosmetic counter helped me. She was really nice," Sam strained to keep her voice soft and feminine. Dean chuckled and rubbed their noses together.

"Everyone you meet seems to be really nice," he teased. He put Sam back on her feet and buttoned up the cuffs on his shirt. "I was thinking we could go to El Stappos."

Sam's jaw dropped. That was one of the nicest restaurants in this town, and she had been hinting about wanting to go there.

"But its Friday," Sam looked down at the floor. "We'd need reservations." Dean grinned.

"Already made," He said. Sam squeaked and jumped into Dean's arms again. "Made it right after you called me at work." Sam began placing kisses all over Dean's face, making Dean laugh.

They were so wrapped up in each other they didn't hear the apartment door opening.

"Dean," John Winchester called from the front door. Both boys froze. Sam's back was to the door, but there was no way they could get out of this. "Oh, sorry. Didn't know you had company. Where's Sam?" Dean nervously looked down at Sammy. Sam was trembling slightly.

"I asked you a question, son!" John barked. "Where is Sam?" Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to think of anything to say. Sam squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

"Right here, Dad," Sam said, turning to face their father. Dean tried to grab Sam's shoulders to stop him. Sam shrugged him off, facing John.

John paled. He looked between his two sons, shocked. Slowly, realization dawned on him and his face morphed into disgust.

"What the hell are you doing, Samuel?" John yelled. Sam straightened his back, his mouth in a hard line. Dean tried to wedge himself between the two, but Sam stood his ground.

"There's nothing I can say to you that will make you listen, Dad," Sam said evenly. Sam reached to the side and took Dean's hand. "You'd never understand. But I'd like you to accept."

"Accept this?" John boomed. "You disgust me! Take that crap off now!"

"No," Sam said defiantly.

"Sammy," Dean pleaded, trying to step between them.

"Dean," Sam said, staring at his brother with a million different emotions in his eyes.

"Samuel, you take that off right now," John yelled again. "I will not have a faggot for a son. Either take it off or leave."

The words fell heavy over the room. Dean gave John a look of utter disbelief. Sam fought the tears beginning to form.

"Dad," Sam trembled. "You don't mean that."

John squared his shoulders and glared at his youngest son. He didn't give an answer, just stared.

Sam bit his lip and nodded. Sam left the small living room and headed to the bedroom.

"Dean," John grumbled. "Why are you encouraging this sick behavior?"

For the first time in his life, Dean felt hatred towards his father.

"Sick behavior? Sam's never been happier," Dean tried to keep his voice even. He would not yell, no matter how upset he was.

"Dean, it's wrong," John said. "Boys should be boys!"

"Dean," Sam said softly from the edge of the living room. Sam was still wearing the skirt and make up. He had his black duffel over his shoulders and Dean's olive green one was at his feet.

Dean could read what Sam was thinking. He promised Sam anything.

"You leave, you don't ever come back," John said dangerously. Sam nodded.

"Dean," Sam whispered. "Come with me."

"Anything," Dean said, holding his hand out to Sam.

"That goes for you too, Dean," John said.

"I know, Dad," Dean said, taking his duffel from Sam. Dean stared into Sam's watery hazel eyes. Dean nodded and wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders.

Slowly they walked to the door of the apartment, not saying anything more to their father. Once the door was closed, they heard John swearing and the shattering of glass. They made their way to the Impala in silence.

Once seated in the car, a few tears slipped from Sam.

"I hate him," he trembled. Dean cupped Sam's face and brushed at the black tinted tears.

"Hey, that's a little strong," Dean said softly. He stared at his Sammy. "Mascara isn't waterproof," he said with a chuckle. Sam choked out a laugh and wiped at the smudges.

"What are we going to do," Sam asked, worry creeping into his voice.

"I've got money saved, and I can hustle if needed," Dean placed a soft kiss on Sam's forehead. "We'll find a way."

"I love you, Dean," Sam whispered, leaning in to hug Dean. Dean wrapped his arms tightly around Sam.

"I love you too," Dean said into Sam's hair. "Ready, Samantha?"

Samantha nodded and curled into Dean as he started the car.


End file.
